


Lilt

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/F, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roberta catches a moment alone with Isis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lilt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BelsanEmpress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelsanEmpress/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for pepitaladinamita’s “Isis x Roberta from Star Trek TOS' "Assignment: Earth"” prompt on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek (or Barbarella ;A;) or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even on the most boring days, Roberta’s job is still a _little_ exciting, and she always looks forward to coming back. She shows up early partially from eagerness, partially to see if she can catch Gary in the act of using new gadgets, and partially so he’ll think her a hard worker. Sometimes she still feels a little bad for knocking him upside the head on her first day at the ‘office.’

But when she gets there today, he’s nowhere to be seen. She turns to shut the door behind herself—a habit she still hasn’t broken—only to find that the computer’s done it for her. She hears a muffled sneeze and glances to the couch where only a cat had been before, although Isis is never really _only_ a cat. She’s reverted back to her human form—or her human _looking_ one, as Roberta’s been corrected—and her nose is wrinkling cutely, free of any whiskers. 

For the first few seconds after Roberta opens her mouth, nothing comes out. She had a question, but she forgets it under Isis’ piercing gaze, and the usual mesmerizing sight of a divinely _gorgeous_ woman stretched out along the cushions. She’s lying on her stomach with her legs in the air, her black skirt slipping off them and down the side to show off the curves of her thighs. Her back is almost entirely bare, only strung around her neck and waist where the thin strips of silken fabric cling to her creamy skin. Her black hair glides over her shoulder, longer fingers absently combing it as she eyes Roberta, a playful look on her features. She always looks somewhat _sly_ to Roberta, but that could just be because she’s a cat, and cats can be languidly devious. 

Finally, Roberta gets out, “Where’s Gary?” because they seem to be able to read each other’s mind, and surely Isis always knows where he is. 

Isis tilts her head and bats her long lashes, She lifts her shoulders as though shrugging, and then she starts to purr: that deep, rumbling sound she does so well with both humanoid and feline vocal chords alike. It’s vaguely unsettling and drives Roberta to put her hands on her hips and asks, “ _Can_ you even talk?” Now that she thinks of it, she’s never heard more than that purr. Not that Isis often has a human mouth to speak through. 

A black tail flickers out from between the folds of Isis’ skirt and starts to wave in the air. Roberta didn’t even know she had one in this form. It curls in a mesmerizing dance, and Isis draws her pink lips in to coo, “If I like to.” A shiver immediately runs down Roberta’s spine. Isis’ voice is deep and sensual, throaty and a bit hoarse, like she’s done nothing all day but writhe about in bed and it’s left her dizzy and breathless. She has a slight accent that Roberta can’t place, but it might be some kind of European. Then Isis runs her rosy tongue across her lips in a slow, erotic display, leaving a moist trail for Roberta’s eyes to fall to. 

With inhuman grace, Isis slinks back, rising up on her hands and knees to crawl like an animal, but when she tosses her long hair over her shoulder, she straights out like a movie star. She arches her back in just the right way to highlight all her curves, her breasts thrust forward and only just hidden under her black veil, her silver-white collar nestled prettily atop them. She rubs her palms flat over the seat she opened up and murmurs, “Sit. Wait with me.”

Roberta might have said no, but then Isis starts making that purring noise in the back of her throat again, and it’s something like a siren’s song. Roberta’s always had a weakness for strange and beautiful creatures; they get her riled up, one way or another. She finds herself drifting closer, and then she’s tucking the skirt of her dress behind her knees to sit. She feels vaguely like Barbarella being seduced by the Black Queen, except without all the bad history to keep them apart. 

But then Isis stretches back out along the couch again, lying herself down in Roberta’s lap: a cat again, not a great tyrant. She rolls onto her back and squirms until her hair is cushioning her and not pulling, her ears twitching with each movement. Her knees drag together and lift, her feet dangly idly over the other end of the couch. She looks up at Roberta with a smoldering intensity and yet a coy, withdrawn smile, and Roberta gulps by accident.

When Isis lifts her arms above her head, it draws her makeshift shirt even higher, exposing so much midriff that very little is left to Roberta’s overactive imagination. She gets the distinct impression that Isis wants to be _pet_ there, like a cat getting their belly rubbed, but Isis is a _woman_ right now with the sort of flat stomach more common to TV than real life. It’s difficult not to be jealous of her, although, at least, she seems to find Roberta worth playing with. 

Curling in her fingers like a paw, Isis lifts her hands to bat at the wavy ends of Roberta’s blond hair. It bounces under the attention, and Roberta mumbles, “Hey.” She tilts her head away, but Isis only smiles wider and uncurls her fingers to sweep through the yellow waves, her lips purring nonstop. A bit of that alluring fun, and Roberta gives in—she places one hand over Isis’ naval and scratches lightly. Isis squirms blissfully, her tail flicking out to the side and her eyes closing, lips lifting in a wide smile. She looks even more stunning, and even better, completely at Roberta’s mercy. 

A few strokes and Isis is writhing, nearly moaning, and instead of just running through Roberta’s hair, she takes a hold of it, tugging Roberta down. Roberta finds herself bending, leaning down, even as she mutters, “What’re you doing?” She thinks they might be about to kiss. Isis tilts her chin up and purses her lips, Roberta drawn to them like honey, having never kissed another woman but always sort of wanting too—how could she not?—their movement’s so stylish and it’s all about _love_ and Isis is a tantalizing bundle of beauty lying right in her very lap. 

The door opens, and in that single heartbeat, Roberta jerks back, blushing furiously. Then she’s wincing as Isis’ hands are forced out of her hair, and Isis’ face has taken on a pout that Roberta only gets a quick look at. She turns to the door, where Gary’s stepping through, and before he has both feet on the carpet, she’s jumped off the couch. 

She realizes only belatedly that she shouldn’t have been able to do that, but the woman that lay in her lap is now a cat again, plodding back around to the couch and turning away to ignore them both, while a frazzled Roberta wonders who to explain to first.


End file.
